Tool
by fang shinobi
Summary: ONESHOT Zabuza reflects on Naruto's words. For there is more to a shinobi than being a heartless tool.


**Tool** by **fang_shinobi**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Naruto. Masashi Kishimoto does.

**A/N:** Resubmitted from my collection of one shots, MBF. I've taken it down and reposted each one shot.

…

The Leaf brat was noisier than he had expected. "Do you really feel nothing?" shouted the brat, all signs of fear gone as he confronted the deadly Zabuza, pointing an accusatory finger at him. The missing nin could not understand why this boy, whom they had tried to kill, would try to sympathize with them (or so fearlessly confront him thusly). What did it matter if Haku was dead? What did it matter if he could not feel any sentiment for the dead boy?

"If I become as strong as you are… will I become the same way?" The fear returned in the blond brat's voice, but it was not the same as before. He was not scared of Zabuza; he was scared of himself, of becoming what Zabuza was. A shinobi's life was cruel, for they were nothing but tools. To be more efficient tools, their hearts had to be as cold as the very blades they armed themselves with. It was a grand old lesson the S-rank criminal had never forgotten and something the brat needed to learn.

For as long as he could remember, a mist heavy with the stench of death had always hung over Kirigakure, the Hidden Mist Village, where he had grown up. It was a place that was never dry, never hot, never warm. The village was just as cold as the hearts of those who lived in it, and just as it lacked sunlight, its people lacked warmth.

Around him, everyone's eyes were cold, devoid of emotion. Nothing mattered to them but strength, the steel of one's heart and the blood that one could draw in battle. After all, the best kunai was one that was kept sharpened. To kill before one could be killed was the most important lesson he had ever learned, and in time, he too had those eyes.

He was but a boy who was barely even a ninja when he came to be known as the Devil of the Bloody Mist. Covered in blood, he had sat amidst his classmates' corpses, the glower of murder still fresh in his eyes when the examiners found him.

To cling to life no matter what it took, he became a demon amongst demons. The customary graduation exam was never the same ever again.

So, for a demon like him, who was feared even in the depths of hell, what difference did one more corpse have? To be moved by pity or regret were not actions he was accustomed to. And least of all would he be affected by this clueless brat's words.

Haku, who lay motionless on the cement, was no less serene than when he had been alive.

_It was necessary for a tool to remain a tool, as all shinobi knew._

"Please let me stay by your side," Haku had said when they first met, "as your tool." He was so small then, so white and fragile he looked like a snowflake. The smile on his face was far too soft, too gentle, to be from one who ought to be a tool. Was he capable of battle? Of bloodshed? Of murder? Was he prepared to die at any moment? To sacrifice his life for his master? These questions he answered easily.

Despite the harsh training and the blood he had spilled, he had maintained a kindness and gentleness that even the Mist's Devil could not taint. It was this kindness towards him, a demon, that Zabuza felt was misplaced. When faced by such a feared monster, it was not with a smile that one would usually respond. But the boy used to smile at him so fondly every time, and he always looked away, fearing that the demon inside him would die a little each time.

_But a kunai dared not smile at its wielder._

All these years he proved himself a worthy pawn, and in seconds, without as much as a thought, he threw away his life, becoming a human shield for Zabuza. The _Raikiri_ to the chest should have killed him instantly, but he was not done yet. He put his hands around Kakashi's arm, holding the silver-haired shinobi in place so Zabuza's _kubikiri houchou_ could slice through them both. And he gave one last smile.

_And a kunai, or any tool for that matter, would not smile upon its death, happy to fulfill its duty till the end._

"He died for you… It's just… so sad…" The Devil of the Mist need not look to know the tears that flowed down the Leaf boy's face as he said those words. Why could this Konoha genin, who barely even knew Haku, shed such tears, when he, the one the dead boy loved above all else, could not? It really was… just so sad…

The tears that sprang from Zabuza's eyes felt like a surge of relief, like releasing a breath he did not know he was holding. The demon inside him was telling him to flee and come back for blood another day, but he did not listen. "You don't need to say any more," he told the blond boy, whose name he should have noted and who looked on in comprehension. All along this child knew what took him so long to realize.

There was just one thing he could do for Haku. With nothing but a kunai between his dagger-like teeth, he became the Bloody Mist's Devil one last time.

_For there was more to a shinobi than being a heartless tool._

**End**

…

**A/N: **This one's a one-pager I made for my creative writing class (Hi, Ma'am S!). It might not seem like a lot since I'm used to writing long, winding short stories, but this one is as short as it gets. I've edited it and added more after the class workshop. It might be a little mushy, but… uh, I have no excuse for my actions.

**Please review.** Sankyu!


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